'gades Find Out What Winning Is All About

June 2, 1985|By Larry Guest of the Sentinel Staff

Even as Saturday night's surprise headed into the final period with the Renegades in front by a startling 30-7, Managing General Partner Don Dizney was still holding his breath. ''Me nervous?'' he laughed. ''I've picked a sore off my hand that I don't even have. Remember, I was at Denver.''

His 'Gades blew a 17-0 halftime lead at Denver to lose, and the USFL will be old and established before the next premature celebration by the Orlando ownership group. All knew these Tampa Bay Bandits were equally dangerous, capable of a series of lightning bolts that would spoil this happiest of moments for the Renegades.

All inhibitions disappeared late in the fourth period, however, when little Lupe Sanchez picked off a Bandits' pass and raced 88 yards for what was not a nail but a railroad spike in Tampa's coffin. The long-suffering faithful in Orlando Stadium leaped from their aluminum perches, erupting into a dancing, chanting frenzy of joy. Players hugged. Coaches cried. Owners high- fived. This was not a Super Bowl victory, but the Lombardi Trophy hardly could be sweeter than this rout of the respected Bandits by a franchise so widely discredited and ridiculed.

''BOOM-boom-boom-boom. BOOM-boom-boom-boom,'' chanted John Day, the gleeful part owner of the team cruising the sidelines, grinning and pumping flesh as the final seconds ticked away into ecstacy.

Moments later, he was in the happy bedlam of the Renegades' locker room where Coach Lee Corso presided over a noisy awards ceremony, the players doling out keepsake game balls to general partners Dizney, Day and Jim English, line coach Jim Niblack and equipment manager Bull Norman. Veteran defensive tackle Joe Ehrmann led a boisterous chant after each presenation: ''Hooray for Don! Hooray at last! Hooray for Don! He's a horse's bleep!'' The laughter melted away 11 defeats as sweaty bodies and business suits pressed together in happy embrace.

An hour before kickoff, Corso sat in the air-conditioned quiet of his office, anxiously contemplating the events that might unfold. He said his Renegades could not afford to concede, in their own minds, that these well- balanced Bandits are a better team. He said his Renegades could not afford to let the speedy Bandits get off to a hot start or they might launch an early blowout. Which they did not. The blowout was on the other foot.

Corso agreed that the Renegades would need a superb effort and a few breaks -- plus success with the larger-than-usual bag of special plays worked up this week in practice -- to pull off an upset of the heavily-favored Bandits. ''Special plays'' are the pro version of what college coaches like to refer to as ''alumni plays.'' These are those plays you used to draw in the dirt during recess: One wideout to the fireplug, one to the see-saw and then the center sneaks up the middle with the ball hidden in his sister's lunch pail.

The 'Gades had no lunch pails in the game plan Saturday night. They were not needed. This was not a trick victory. This was Reggie Collier flicking bullseyes on third down. It was Victor Jackson plucking Bandits' passes. It was Scott Hutchinson rumbling through to spike Tampa quarterback John Reaves for a third-period safety. ''You have to love it! You have to love it!'' gushed Hutch afterward, reliving the two-pointer that said the 'Gades would not suffer through yet another third-quarter flameout.

There was hardly a stadium occupant unaware of the developing score despite the malfunctioning scoreboard glowing meaningless numbers from above the north end zone. The announcement had come just before the opening kickoff that the scoreboard had some grave electronic disease.

A medic climbed a huge ladder, pulled back a panel on the face of the board and leaned inside as if checking the bicuspids of some prehistoric beast. Halfway of the first period, the guy descended the ladder, gave a shrug and the Renegades' happiest evening would never be recorded in lights.

Perhaps the scoreboard malfunction was merely a clever ploy to keep the Renegades from knowing when their nemesis third period was being played. I could almost see Corso responding to a curious player: ''Third period? Nahhh, I think it's still the second period. That break we took in the locker room was just a long TV timeout.''

As the hopeful home crowd began thinking the unthinkable, the first nervous omen came after the third TD when kicker Jeff Brockhaus missed a point-after kick for the first time this season after 31 successes. The ball rebounded off the left upright and Renegades tackle James Scott suddenly found himself clutching the ball at the 5-yard line. Scott blinked in astonishment for a moment, then lurched forward through two or three low gears, belching diesel smoke until he reached the end zone. But, alas, a quick check showed there has been no recent change in the rules to allow such rebounds to be stuffed back in by tackles, guards or even power forwards.